“Is she here?” Asher asked.
Zoe scuttled away from her daydream, blinked, and nodded.
Asher set up a chair in the centre of the cleared circle. “Sit here.”
Zoe, legs limp, shaking, took a seat. Not that she wanted to. Sitting made her vulnerable, but she wasn’t willing to make Asher suspicious of her.
Then, before her mind could interpret what she was seeing, Asher pulled a baton from her backpack and swung it.
A dull thwack sounded as it made contact, seemingly from inside Zoe’s head. Made her teeth clamp down hard.
Pain flared at the side of her skull.
Little moving stars shone behind her eyes.
Blackness.
Chapter 30
When Zoe came to, she didn’t immediately orient herself. Above her ear, her head splintered with pain like it was breaking apart.
She reached for her head with her right hand but met resistance: her wrist was wrapped around the arm of the chair with electrical tape. So was her left. And her waist. Her legs were taped together too. She resisted against the restraints, breaths coming shorter, heart beating erratically.
What the hell is going on?
She searched her surrounds—a small clearing set against a backdrop of a dark forest.
Asher killed Delia.
As soon as the thought flooded her mind, the fear raced back, accelerating her heartbeat.
Asher killed Delia and now she’s going to kill me too.
“Don’t fret, Super Freak. This is just a precaution. And I quite enjoyed seeing you tied up at the hospital. In fact, I’ve been unable to get the image out of my head.” Her hand went to her crotch, where she readjusted her knickers, lifting one leg then the other. “There’s something intoxicating about a beautiful girl tied up.”
As Zoe watched Asher grinning to herself, checking the equipment, she swallowed down the disgust coursing up from her belly. She tried to take calmer breaths because if she kept breathing so short and quick, she was likely to faint.
The air was freezing. Gauzy puffs of breath hung in the air. She looked around and saw Delia standing a little way back.
“Now let’s do this. We’ve wasted enough time. Ask Delia everything she knows about The Afterlife,” Asher ordered.
“Then you’ll untie me?”
Asher smirked, shook her head. “I’ve got other plans.”
“Then I won’t ask her. I won’t do anything you say unless you untie me.” She was clutching for any sort of power in this situation.
Again that smirk appeared. “Super Freak, I like this side of you. It’s taken a long while to show itself, but now that it has, I must admit I’m feeling a little sad about having to see it fade out of you. Once you’re dead, that is.”
Fear caught in Zoe’s throat. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them back.
Asher laughed. “And you were doing so well. Being so brave. Don’t worry about it. It’s not going to hurt you. And think of all the answers you’re going to give to the world. And to me.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No. If you kill me, we won’t get any answers.”
Asher laughed again and swaggered closer. Bending over, gaze only centimetres from Zoe’s, she said, “That’s where you’re wrong, Super Freak. But I won’t be making the same mistake I did with Delia. She died too quickly. It was over before it began, and the footage…let’s not talk about the so-called footage that showed exactly fuck all evidence of anything. So, with you, my darling little Super Freak, we’re going to slow the pace.”
Zoe shook her head, struggled against the restraints until her wrists ached. “No. You don’t need to do this. We can find the answer without me needing to die. I’ll get the answers, I promise.”
Asher straightened up, legs shoulder width apart. There was such confidence in the way she glared down at Zoe, such arrogance in the grin that overtook her features. “You and I, Super Freak, are very different. You see, I’m interested, and my subscribers are interested, in the transition from life to death. The exact point the life force leaves the body. You can’t give me those answers unless, well, unless you die.”
Stomach acid rose in Zoe’s throat, but all that transpired was a loud dry-retch. She could not believe what was happening.
“I told you not to take it personally. This is all for content. I’m going to break the Internet with this. And think of how famous I’ll be. How much money I’ll have rolling in.”
“I trusted you. My parents trusted you,” Zoe said in a low tone dripping with disappointment.
“No, they didn’t.”
“And I should have listened.”
“That’s the joy of being a teenager isn’t it—rebelling against your parents. But don’t see this as a failure, Super Freak. You’re going to be famous too.”
“I don’t want to be famous.” Her words were shrill. “I don’t want to help you. I promise, if you let me go, I won’t tell anyone about what happened. We can come up with another way to get you some incredible footage. I’ll—”
“That’s enough,” Asher yelled. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. The blade sprang free.
“No. Asher. Please don’t.” Zoe tried to kick. “Help!” she screamed. “HELP. SOMEONE, HELP ME!” Her cries echoed around the clearing.
Asher frowned. “I expected more from you. Then again, you did piss your pants over a teeny tiny ghost.” She reached for Zoe’s hand, gripped her middle finger and yanked it back until it cracked and pain punched through her like a hammer.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” Zoe screamed in unrelenting agony.
“Be quiet, right now, or I break another one.”
“HELP!” Zoe shouted, higher pitched, more fervent than before.
Asher was a lunatic, and it was either Zoe get help or she was going to die. Asher reached for the next finger and snapped it back. The pain beat worse than the first. The trees spun and warped, and lights slanted and faded.
Vomit boiled up Zoe’s throat, but she swallowed it down.
“One more sound and this blade goes through your left eye.” Asher held the blade millimetres from Zoe’s eyeball to make her point. Zoe held tight, afraid if she moved that thing was making contact. “You understand? I’m not playing games, Super Freak.”
Zoe fought to settle as her entire body pulsed against the torture of the hopeless situation. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, voice choked with a restrained sob.
“Good girl. Now, as I was saying, we haven’t got all night.” Asher gripped Zoe’s arm and just above the electrical tape at her wrist, sliced through her vein, a vertical slit about three centimetres long. It burned like a row of ant bites. Red, viscous blood sprang from the wound and dripped to the soil below.
Zoe gasped. “You sick, twisted, bitch!”
Asher smiled at her. “Thank you. I pride myself on originality.”
Zoe restrained against attacking that rampaging ego of Asher’s, telling her that a million goths had come before her, and she was as far from original as a bottle of black hair dye. But her broken fingers throbbed with pain, reminding her of the lengths Asher was taking, so she bit her tongue.
Looking down at the blood, dripping in a long line from her vein, Zoe wondered how much time she had left.
A million thoughts passed through her mind, escape plans, ways to break free from these chains, but none of them would work.
She could not see a way out of this unless, by chance, someone had heard her screams and alerted the police.
But she feared it would be too late anyway.
“This can be painless, Super Freak, or a living hell with you begging me to end it. That’s your choice. If you don’t cooperate, then I’ll give you pain. If you cooperate, then you’ll die painlessly,” she cracked her neck by pressing her ear to her shoulder, first one side, then the next, “and peacefully.”
But either way, I’ll die.
“Understand?”
Zoe nodded.
“Good. Now smile for the camera because this show is on the road.”
Zoe didn’t smile. She wouldn’t have been able to conjure one even if she tried. The pain shooting from her fingers all the way up her arm had the world spinning. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Now call Delia to you and have her stand on your right side.”
“Delia,” Zoe said. Her throat ached so much, voice strangled with tears, the words were barely audible. “Can you please stand at my side?”
Delia frowned, sympathy shaping her lifeless features, and did as she was asked.
Strange what thoughts went through a person’s mind when they were resigned to dying. Zoe regretted the phone call she made to her parents, instead wished they could have been saved from that anguish before receiving the news that their daughter was dead.
She wished she would have held them longer to her the last time they saw each other instead of leaving angrily.
She wished she had hugged her brothers and told them how much she loved them.
And Theron, she hated that their last words were heated, but she was also grateful for the argument because it meant he wasn’t here with her tonight and was saved from the danger.
“Is she there?” Asher asked.
Zoe nodded.
Asher bombarded Zoe with a myriad of questions to ask Delia about the moment she died: What did it feel like the moment you died? Where did you go? Did you know you were dead?
But Delia had no answers; she couldn’t remember.
Asher thumped her fist against a tree trunk after yet another question went unanswered. “You better not be fucking with me, Super Freak.”
Zoe shook her head. “I’m not. She can’t remember.”
“Then get rid of her. I’m sick of her already. Now!” Asher roared.
“You mean to take her?”
“Yes. What else would I fucking mean?”
“I need you to free my hand then.” Hope glimmered in Zoe’s chest like warm fuzz after a drink of hot coffee.
Asher grinned. “Don’t go getting excited.” She marched to Zoe and sliced through the electrical tape on her left hand—the one that was bleeding. Her head was already light from the blood loss, and she knew that Asher understood, too, that this arm would be weak.
Incapable of doing any damage.
Her hope ebbed away.
“Get rid of her,” Asher said through gritted teeth.
“Come here, Delia. Take my hand.” Her words were a croak of resignation. In some small way, she was grateful now to escape this reality if only for a moment.
Delia reached for her and just before their hands touched, a flash came through the darkness.
Theron.
“What the hell is going on here?” he boomed.
But it was too late, their hands met, and blackness overcame her.
Chapter 31
Zoe screamed her frustration to the blackened sky overhead. Lightning flashed in long arcs across the black canvas, illuminating the landscape.
Delia stood beside her, emotionless, mute. Such resignation in the spirits when they came here, as though they knew it was a fate they couldn’t avoid. A bit like her, really.
Tonight, she ached to see Marcus. Yearned to feel the comfort of someone else—someone who wasn’t slowly killing her.
A sloshing sound came from the river as silvery waves lapped at the shore, and the man on the boat plunged the long timber pole into the depths, propelling himself along.
The wind blew, flapping Marcus’s coat and his long hair behind him. She ran toward him, Delia keeping pace beside her. “Marcus,” Zoe cried.
He docked at the shore and jumped out of the boat, his two feet stirring dust as he landed on the sandy bank.
She ran into his arms, a shaking, volatile mess of emotions stirring inside her. His hand smoothed over her hair, and he made soft shooshing sounds as she shook and sobbed against his chest.
“Zoe,” he said, his voice like silk against her ear. “My girl.”
At those two words, Zoe inclined her face to look at him. Her head reeled with memory, intertwining with all she had read, and all the answers she desired.
The purpose of tonight came rushing back. All that was happening was because she needed information.
A question formed on her tongue, stung her with its urgency to be spoken. “Am I a god? Are you … were you and I lovers?”
Marcus’s shoulders relaxed, and a long, relieved sigh streamed from his lips. “Yes.” He took her hand and squeezed it as he smiled. “I’ve waited for you to remember me. Remember us.”
“Who am I? I don’t understand. I read a book; it spoke of a war and a new age of gods restoring peace. Is it true?”
Marcus nodded slowly. “Yes.”
More memories fluttered before her so quickly she could barely make sense of them; they were little tastes in her mouth that exploded with colour then ebbed away. Nights in Marcus’s bed; intermittent news of war; word that her true mother and father were dead, and the grief that burned through her like fire.
She remembered cradling herself in Marcus’s arms as she wept and he comforted her. She had loved this man; she knew it with every sense of her being.
“I’m dying,” she said then.
He nodded slowly.
Theron’s face flashed in her mind. He was there with Asher, in danger. She needed to get back to help him. “Can we do something to stop Asher?”
“We don’t interfere with human matters, Zoe. It will play out how it plays out. Or you could simply give up. Stay here with me.”
“We must interfere.”
“Give up! Stay here until that body is drained of all its life, then we can be together.”
How tempting. How damn tempting to give up on that earthly reality, her imminent death, and just stay here where she felt comforted.
But Theron. He’s in danger. I can’t leave him.
She shook her head. “I need to help Theron.”
“Forget your damn humans. They are worthless. You belong here with me, to live as a god should live!”
Zoe paced backward a couple of steps, narrowed her eyes as she took in his hardened features.
Marcus softened his voice, added an element of warmth. “You deserve to be happy. I can make you happy. You know I can.” He came closer and stroked a finger down her cheek—warmth saturated her flesh.
She remembered that touch, comforting. If she gave up, it would be over. How simple to never look back on that pain—taped to a chair, her lifeblood dripping from her vein.
But it wasn’t right. She owed Theron more than that. Much more.
Zoe reached into the pouch around her neck and pulled out the gold coin. “I’m going back. And I need to hurry.”
He grimaced; his blue eyes were shadowed with grey. “You would choose a world with psychopaths, parents who steal babies, and people who shoot their brothers dead, over a life here with me? Here where you belong?”
Zoe thought about Asher and shuddered. She didn’t want to share a world with her, not at all. But her parents, she did. Yes, they had lied, but their intentions were true. Their lies were to protect her. They, in their unique way, loved her. But, more importantly, she loved them.
And Theron. He was her world now. Seeing his face as he charged through that forest, the fury in his features as he saw her tied to the chair, she knew she loved him. Where he existed, was where she would stay. Not this strange place.
The memories with Marcus, as beautiful as they were, didn’t come close to the emotion, the pleasure, the love, she felt for Theron. Zoe clenched the coin hard in her fist and nodded. “Yes, I choose that world. And I choose Theron.”
She flicked the coin in the air. Marcus’s eyes gleamed as he caught it and bit down on the metal. With Delia following closely behind, Marcus whirled and marched toward his boat.
And as Zoe drifted away, she heard Marcus’s angry growl on the wind.
Chapter 32
Zoe woke
to see Theron knocking into Asher, shoulder connecting with her waist, slamming her to the ground with a breath-stealing thud. The bat she had in her hand, ready to strike Theron, fell to the floor.
He raised his fist and smashed it into Asher’s jaw. As soon as the fist connected, Asher went still.
Theron stood, standing over Asher’s limp body, panting. He turned to Zoe.
“Is she dead?” Zoe asked.
Theron met her eyes and shook his head quickly. “No. I knocked her out for our safety. What the hell is going on?” He rushed to Zoe.
Zoe couldn’t shake the lethargy and cloudiness in her mind. “Asher sliced my vein open,” she managed though her words were a lisp. She was cold, and it wasn’t from Delia because she was safely in the Afterlife. “My wrist.”
Theron’s gaze traced the puddle of blood seeping into the carpet of leaves and soil. His face twisted with anguish. “Asher did this to you?”
She nodded.
He ripped his shirt over his head, folded it lengthways, and wrapped the shirt around her wrist. To tie it tightly in place, he peeled off the tape still stuck to her wrist, and wrapped it around the shirt.
“Can you hold your arm up?” he asked.
She lifted her arm in the air, but her lack of strength meant she couldn’t keep it up and it dropped to her lap. “I can’t,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, holding her face in his hands then kissing her mouth.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
“Me too.” He released her face, reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal object. When the blade snapped out, Zoe had never felt more relieved to see a pocketknife.
“Lucky I come prepared. Didn’t know what we’d encounter tonight. But I see the ghosts were the least of my worries.” He sliced the blade through the gap between her left wrist and the armrest, then used the blade to free her legs and waist.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialled a number. Zoe closed her eyes, unable to keep her lids open.
After Life Page 20
